


Kill of the Night

by tsund0ku_library



Series: Sleeping on the Job [1]
Category: Metal Gear, Metal Gear Solid
Genre: Age Difference, And it's good, M/M, Masturbation, angst-ish, read Back to Black by wolvesofbrooklyn first, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsund0ku_library/pseuds/tsund0ku_library
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an immediate sequel to wolvesofbrooklyn's Back to Black story, from the point of view of poor confused Solid. It picks up right where Back to Black drops off, with David all hot and bothered and trying to pretend that he isn't. The title is a song by Gin Wigmore, and I personally think that the lyrics are highly reminiscent of Kaz's behavior. The next two titles will be from Amy Winehouse songs, because I adore her and I can't stop taking cues from wolvesofbrooklyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Back to Black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970722) by [wolvesofbrooklyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolvesofbrooklyn/pseuds/wolvesofbrooklyn). 



Solid walked briskly from Master Miller's office, shutting the door behind him. He broke into a light jog halfway down the hall, his muscles protesting. "What the fuck was Master Miller's problem?! I helped a friendly! I went above and beyond the call of duty. Why'd he tear into me like that?" Solid thought furiously, rounding the corner at a decent clip. "I helped a friendly and he acted as though I shot her in the foot! And what the fuck just happened? Did I just have sex? What happened?!"

He slowed as he approached the door to the locker rooms. Solid pulled the door open, finding it mercifully deserted. He needed space, he needed to think. He rummaged around in his locker, looking for the illusive pack of smokes he'd stuck in there the day previous. It was a fairly new bad habit he'd picked up, but he was determined not to let it rule his life. Solid would remain in control on his addictions. Before, he'd been smoking every other day, but it had upped to one cigarette a day, two if it'd been a particularly trying day. Solid personally felt that he deserved the whole pack after what just happened, but he forced himself to shove the lighter into the box and toss it carelessly back into the locker after lighting it. He sucked in, slightly calmed by the familiar ritual, though the smoke burned his throat. He sat down on the bench, normally careful to only smoke outside when he was alone, but he couldn't bring himself to care today. He took one last drag, then stubbed out the spent smoke on the bench beside him, tossing the butt into the drain.

Solid stood up and began readying himself for the shower, irritated to notice that his hard-on was still erect and very present as he angrily stripped off his clothing. What business did he have being turned on by the sight of Master Miller, his instructor, masturbating to him. To him licking his goddamned filthy boots!

He punched himself in the leg, hard, with one tightly wound fist, trying to beat some sense into himself, trying to force the erection away. It was a fruitless attempt. It just made him admit, unwillingly to himself, that his erection wasn't entirely the fault of the sight of Master Miller rubbing himself through his pants. No, it was also because of the remembered sensation of his hard dick in his mouth, the taste that still lingered on his tongue. The way it had poked through the fly on his military uniform, large and standing at attention, his jacket still in place and the aviators and beret still poised on his head. His wanton moans, the rough way he had jerked his hips. He smothered an unbidden groan.

"Yeah, because that helps, thanks," he thought savagely. Solid twisted the knob on the shower, facing the wall. The water sputtered down on him, only lukewarm water left after the small legion of sweaty recruits had been through here. He turned the heat down still further, hoping that the shock of the chilly water would beat his erection in submission. He was unsuccessful.

"And the tears!" He thought with no small measure of disgust, the water running down his sweaty, abused face reminded him of the hot tears that had followed Master Miller's climax. Solid punched his leg again, more as punishment for his weakness than anything else. His only hope was that Miller hadn't noticed. He didn't think Miller had, but he didn't know whether or not that was blind optimism.

Solid squirted the shampoo into his hand, efficiently massaging the cleanser into his hair, washing away the day's grime and sweat. Finishing his hair, he scrubbed his body throughly with soap, trying to erase the memory from his mind by way of brutal physical cleansing. Solid opened his mouth as wide as it would go, allowing the water to run in his mouth and spill out of the sides, trying to wash the taste of Master Miller from both his memory and his tongue. He gargled the water and spat it out, splattering it against the wet wall of the shower. His throat still ached from the grit and liquor that had been smeared over Master Miller's steel toed boots, not to mention the forceful thrusts that it had endured. Solid slammed his open hand against the wall in front of him, bowing his head and allowing the water to spill over him. He shut his eyes to protect them from the splattering water, droplets clinging to his long, dark lashes.

He didn't want that boy crouched on the ground, scouring his boots clean with his tongue to be Master Miller's mental picture of him. He wanted Miller to be impressed with him. To think of him as a model recruit. To think of him with pride. And God, why was he so fucking turned on? He opened his eyes, focusing on the stubborn representation of his arousal. He needed to get rid of this somehow, and nothing else he tried was working.

Solid sighed, grabbing it with no small amount of annoyance and massaging it roughly, determinedly keeping his mind blank, thinking instead of the quick, slick movements of his agitated hand. He was NOT going to ruminate on Miller's body. Not only was it wildly inappropriate, what had just happened was a fluke, never to be repeated again. He felt a stab of despair at that thought. Solid quickly shoved the feelings of mingled sorrow and shame down as far as he could, adding the memory of Miller writhing, groaning in his heavy metal chair for good measure.

Unfortunately, the thought rose back up as quickly as he tried to bury it. At least it served the purpose his damned subconscious wanted it to. Solid came hard and soundlessly, his hand dropping from his dripping dick immediately. He rinsed his hand off in the spray, watching the evidence of his deed swirl down the drain dispassionately. His hard-on was dealt with, but he still felt curiously hollow inside.

Solid shut the water off, the pipes giving a decisive clang. He stepped out of the shower, water pooling beneath his bare feet, his shower shoes having snapped last week when he tripped on the leg of one of the benches.

"Pathetic," he thought, grabbing the towel from where it was slung over the bench. "Master Miller is missing half of one of his legs, and he can still move better than you can." Solid's body tensed at the thought of Miller as he rubbed the towel through his wet hair quickly. He wrapped the towel around his waist, low on his hips. Solid ran his fingers absently through his shorn hair, thinking that he missed the length of his hair was before the military endorsed haircut.

"I bet Miller's hair is soft," he mused, thinking about Master Miller's wavy blond hair, as long as he could get away with, before clamping down on his thoughts. God, before this happened, Miller existed in only the capacity of his instructor, his hard-ass mentor. Sure, Miller was occasionally the star of some idle fantasies, yeah, but Solid has never intended to act on them. They were simply silly thoughts to be entertained when he needed to blow off some steam. Nothing REAL. Nothing intended as a goal.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head and dropped the towel, struggling into his underwear and pants. He tugged his gray-ish white socks over his feet before sitting down on the bench to cram his feet into his shoes, having had enough crouching down to the ground for one day.

                                                           * * *

Later that night, he sat at one of the tables in the mess hall, hunched over his tray and unenthusiastically spooning food into his mouth. Swallowing food was rough on his still scratchy throat, the loud noise of conversation and clatter of forks a mere background to his thoughts, while he tried to work out how to excel in Miller's eyes while still following his instructions exactly. A jovial hand smacking into his shoulder broke his reverie.

"Solid! That was some smooth shit you pulled in the obstacle course. Kristen couldn't stop talking about it. She thinks you're Sir Lancelot or some fucker like that. I'm just glad you did that at the end. The rest didn't have to endure Master Miller's ire." Jeremy, Solid's bunk mate, laughed uproariously, as though he'd said an incredibly witty joke. His black hair was shaved closed to his head, making it look like soot was rubbed into his scalp in the approximation of hair.

Solid snorted. "Thanks, Jeremy." Jeremy waved a hand. "No problem. Hey, seriously, man, I hope he didn't go too hard on you."

Solid's cheeks tinged with just a slight hint of pink at his words, and he ducked his head forward a little more. "Nah, not too bad. Just that I was an embarrassment to this establishment and that I need to follow orders." Jeremy nodded, not really listening.

"That's not too harsh. Hey, look, Kristen's coming over! Now's your in. You could totally bang her now. She's very grateful to you, getting her across the finish line in time. Now's your chance to finish." Jeremy said with an exaggerated wink.

Solid rolled his eyes. Kirsten made her way over to them, something held in her hands, her hair tied back in a braid that started at the crown of her head and made its way down. For a nanosecond, Solid imagined thrusting into her, his hand wound in her dark braid as her soft legs wrapped around his waist. Then the fantasy changed, turning into Miller's prostrate body, his good leg bent, pushing into the bed beneath him and his hand firmly gripping Solid's ass. "David, just like that. Harder!" he moaned in his mind's eye before Solid flung the thought away from him. Damn Master Miller.

"Solid! There you are. I've been looking for you! I just wanted to thank you for helping me early today. You really saved my ass out there." Kristen smiled at him, her short stature making it so that she barely stood taller than him, even as he was seated.

Solid waved a dismissive hand. "It was nothing. Forget about it, Kristen." Jeremy punched him in the shoulder, not-so-subtly letting him know that he was blowing it.

"That was not nothing! You heard her. You saved her ass. She owes you! Of course, I would've done the same thing, had the opportunity arose." he hastily added. "I made it over the line just before I noticed your distress."

"Uh-huh," Kristen said skeptically. "That's exactly what Melinda and Josie reported. Anyway, Troy said you broke your shower shoes, so I brought you my spare pair. I got them in a set. Only five bucks for the whole thing."

Solid took the proffered flip-flops gratefully, taking in the violent clashing of red, green, and orange in the design. They looked like a Doppler radar tracking a terrible storm. "Thanks, Kirsten. This is really nice of you." Solid offered her a genuine smile. "These are great."

"No problem. It's the least I can do, really."

"Damn straight, it's the least you can do!" Jeremy exclaimed. "You should get down on your knees and-" Solid drove a hard elbow into Jeremy's side.

"Shut up."

"Ow, dude, that hurt!" While Kristen and Solid laughed at Jeremy's pain, Solid caught a glimpse of a familiar limping figure over the heads of the noisy gaggle. Solid immediately sobered up as Master Miller paused in his stroll at the sound of his merriment. How he heard it over the crowd was beyond him. He turned back to his food.

"Miss Chavez!" Miller shouted over the crowd. Kirsten snapped to attention, a hand raising in salute reflexively.

"Sir!" Miller regarded her, his face unreadable beneath his ever present sunglasses. He began to make his way toward them, recruits readily parting for him as though he were Moses gaining passage across a sea bed. They didn't call him the Hell Master for shits and giggles. Kristen's posture remained impeccable as Miller reached their little trio.

"At ease, soldier. Good to see you, Mr. Downes." Miller said to Jeremy, who sat frozen, passing the acceptable point to salute and unsure of what his next move should be.

"S- Sir!" Jeremy said, straightening up and saluting him anyway. Miller waved a dismissive hand.

"Calm down, Downes. I wasn't reprimanding you." Miller turned back to Kristen, who was standing with her legs apart, her nervous hands knotted behind her back. Solid did not let the fact that Master Miller had refused to acknowledge him go unnoticed. He sulkily spooned another mouthful of cold mush into his mouth, his appetite completely lost but needing something to do. The ache in his throat was an unwelcome reminder of what he done with the man now disdainfully ignoring him just a few hours before.

"That was a damned decent thing he did for you out there on the field today," Miller said, inclining his head ever so slightly in Solid's direction. "I hope you thanked him properly for his actions. However disrespectful and arrogant they were."

"She did, Master Miller." Solid said quietly, unable to remain silent. "She gave me these." He waved the shoes feebly, looking with renewed interest at the riot of color.

"I did, sir." Kristen said quickly, desperate to redeem herself in Master Miller's eyes.

"...Shoes?" he questioned, his lips quirking in a darkly amused smile. Solid folded even deeper into himself, wishing desperately that he could be anywhere but right next to this intimidating man. "How appropriate."

"I broke mine, sir. Tripping. In the locker room, sir." Solid blurted out, wondering why on this blue earth he had mentioned that he tripped in the shower. Yes, that would definitely improve Miller's impression of him. Undoubtedly so.

"What a thoughtful gift. And how did Miss Chavez come upon that information, exactly?" questioned Miller, a steely cast to his voice.

"Troy Parker told me, sir." Kristen explained.

"Troy helped me up." Solid mumbled into his food.

"What was that?" Master Miller asked, putting his warm hand on Solid's shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. Solid stiffened instantly.

"I said, 'Troy helped me up.', sir." Solid repeated a little louder, turning his head a little so that he could be more clearly heard, still refusing to meet Miller's eye.

"I see. I'll leave you to your dinner." Miller leaned in closer to Solid's ear, squeezing his fingers tighter than ever. "I hope you enjoyed that liquor. It's my most expensive stuff." He released his shoulder and grabbed his crutch, limping away, the swarm of young trainees parting for him once again.

Jeremy let out a low whistle. "You weren't kidding when you said he went easy on you. Even when you were acting like that! Hell Master's golden child, you are!" Solid let out a humorless laugh. Golden child. Sure. The pathetic bootlicker he was, a prized student? He didn't think so.

"And what was that about his, 'most expensive stuff', or whatever?" Jeremy asked inquisitively, tilting his head.

"Nothing," Solid muttered before shoving his last spoonful into his mouth. Kristen smacked Jeremy lightly on the head.

"Leave him. Hey, sorry about Master Miller riding your dick over helping me." Kristen apologized. Solid felt his cheeks paint with a light flush at her words, hoping against hope that the lighting was too dim in the mess hall to see it.

"Don't worry about it. I'd do it again. How's the ankle?"

Kristen smiled warmly. "I mean it. Thanks. And it's fine, just a little strain. I can't participate in any training exercises for awhile, but perhaps that's for the best." she laughed self-deprecatingly. "I hope you really are ok. You didn't try to flirt with me once!"

And then she was off, leaving Jeremy to rail against Solid for not trying to get into her pants. In the middle of Jeremy's ridiculous rant, Solid stood up and started to put the tray away. During a rare moment in which Jeremy took a breath, he was intercepted by a fellow recruit, Jones he thought his name was, though he couldn't tell you whether or that was his first or last name.

"Hey, Solid, here's your housekeeping duties for this month," he said, thrusting a slightly wrinkled paper detailing his work duties for the month at him without preamble.

"Thanks," Solid said, though Jones left immediately after he thrusted a similar paper at Jeremy and most likely missed it. Solid sucked in a lip and studied it carefully. He let out an actual groan when he spotted the first item on the list, unable to hold his disgust with his luck in any longer.

"Item 1, Cleaning detail, Commander Miller's office, Wednesday 0830."

                                                          * * *

Solid distractedly changed into his old t-shirt and boxers to sleep in. An official banged on the wall and shouted, "Lights out in 10!", eliciting a flurry of hurried activity. Solid climbed up to the top bunk he was allocated, the metal bars cold against his feet. He pulled the thin sheets over him, thinking of the flip-flops currently safely nestled in his locker. He suspected Kristen was lying about the 2-for-5 deal she had gotten, but that didn't bother him. Solid was just glad he didn't have to risk toe fungus every time he took a much needed showered now.

The light clicked off, leaving the room drenched in darkness, the only light filtering in from the single window on the wall opposite him, a pale reflection of the sunlight from early that day. Bed frames squeaked as people scrambled into them.

He stared up at the corrugated metal ceiling, once again trying to ignore the blood pooling in his groin. Apparently the shower session hadn't been all he'd meant it to be. A solid 30 minutes later, the sound of snoring, peacefully sleeping people permeated the room and Solid was still wide awake. He sighed heavily, finally giving in to his desire and sliding his hand down the the front of his boxers.

He pumped his hand slowly, almost lazily, as he fleshed out his early fantasy. He imagined Master Miller laid out in front of him, his hand gripping tightly to his ass. He laid out on a bed somewhere, clad only in his military jacket, which hung open, revealing a muscular bare chest, shiny with the sweat clinging to him. His blond hair was loose and slightly damp and his unguarded eyes were closed, Miller's face a mask of ecstasy. Solid stood in front of him, rolling his hips rhythmically, in tune with Miller's own bucking hips. In his fantasy, Solid had one hand on Miller's bad leg, lightly stroking the end of it, and the other was pressing bruises into Miller's moving hip, his hand clinging desperately to his open body. "Fuck, David. Just like that. Just like that. Unnhh, harder, David! That's right. I knew you could do better than that."

Solid's hand sped up in reaction to his fantasy Miller's lusty noises, his hips pushing up and his back arching off of the bed in pleasure. Fantasy Master Miller let go of his butt and closed his hand around his own dick, touching himself, getting himself off to Solid's movements. A tiny groan issued out of Solid's mouth. Felt the pressure build inside of him, his breath coming quicker and harder.

Blindly, with his free hand, he felt around under his pillow for the small package of tissues he kept by there. His left hand closing around the squishy, plastic packaging, he quickly yanked out a clump of tissues, his right hand still working furiously below his boxers. Dimly, Solid heard himself thank Kaz for, "Doing him a solid," in between thrusts, and he snorted in amusement.

Just in time, he shoved the tissues under his boxers, mostly containing his load. Panting quietly, he let his body drop, forgetting about Jeremy lightly snoozing under him. The bottom of his bed lurched with what was presumably a kick from Jeremy.

"Stop jerking off up there, man. We're not all the golden child. Some of us need our beauty sleep." Jeremy joked, his voice a sleepy mumble.

"Sorry. Trying to get comfortable." Solid whispered to Jeremy, embarrassed that Jeremy's joke was exactly right.

"Whatever, man. Just let me sleep, or I'll act like I need help 5 yards from the finish line, just before you skip over it." he threatened, a slight shake of the bed frame telling Solid that he had shifted positions.

"Jackass."

Jeremy laughed at his insult and then promptly fell back asleep. Solid took the damp tissues out of his boxers, folding them over and then crumpling them up a bit. He faked a sneeze, just in case anyone was still awake and wondering what he was doing, moving around so much. He set them as far away from his head as could without actually getting off the bed, rolling onto his side, careful not to disturb Jeremy anymore than he already had.

Closing his eyes, he wondered why his fantasy Master Miller had called him, "David". Everyone called him Solid, and he had no particular attachment to the name David. Drifting off, and feeling markedly more satisfied after allowing himself to fantasize instead of just going through the motions, he gave in to the exhaustion of the day.


End file.
